


Nearly Forgot My Broken Heart

by RuinNine



Series: Valhalla over Heaven [4]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Betrayal, Established Relationship, Forgiveness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22822216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuinNine/pseuds/RuinNine
Summary: Finan knew, even now, he would eventually forgive his lord. So why not forgive Sihtric?
Relationships: Finan/Sihtric (The Last Kingdom)
Series: Valhalla over Heaven [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568359
Comments: 16
Kudos: 95





	Nearly Forgot My Broken Heart

**Author's Note:**

> No native speaker. No money. Just fun.
> 
> The title belongs to Chris Cornell's phenomenal song. My thanks belong to Gimli, the best partner in nonsense ever.

\<|>/  
  
  
Now that he knew, it was obvious he should have realized sooner that something was wrong.  
  
But such was the case with every betrayal. If you always saw it coming, there would be no point in feeling betrayed. Now that he knew, he could determine the exact moment the first root of the deceit had taken hold. The whole ordeal with Sihtric had started when Osferth had taken a sword to the side in the battle on Beamfleot's doorstep.  
  
To an outsider, the differences between Osferth and Sihtric were glaringly obvious. The first was a pious monk, kind and gentle and always looking for a peaceful solution. The latter was a proud heathen, rough and reserved and quick to draw a sword instead of bartering for peace.  
  
To anyone who knew them, the similarities were just as striking. Both had been born a bastard to a feared leader of men, unwanted and cast aside until Uhtred had offered them a chance to step out of the shadow of their fathers. In trusted company, both loved singing and were quick to laugh at the most awful jokes. And each of them had been weary of the other at first, acutely aware of their differences and the promise of rejection they contained.  
  
Now, after countless months of working together, the two still appeared as an odd pair – even to themselves. Osferth would forever deny he admired Sihtric's skill of handling an axe, while Sihtric would never confess to keeping close to Osferth in a fight, shielding him from opponents he wouldn't be able to handle on his own. Osferth would never mention how Sihtric glowered at anyone who talked down to him, while Sihtric would never acknowledge that Osferth had not once spoken ill of his faith. Finan, however, knew better. They didn't speak of their friendship, but there was no denying how strong it was.  
  
And yet.  
  
And yet Sihtric did not hover over Osferth in the wake of his injury as he normally would. He did not cheer him up with the latest jokes he had picked up from Alfred's warriors mingling with their own in their makeshift camp. On their way back to Saltwic, he did not guard the wagon and watch him like a hawk. Instead, Sihtric kept his distance from Osferth, and since Finan had made it his task to look after their baby monk in his stead, that particular decision had kept Sihtric away from him, too.  
  
All things considered, it should have made him suspicious. But seeing how preoccupied he had been with keeping Osferth alive, Sihtric's strange behaviour did not seem strange at all. At the time.  
  
When the steadily mounting tension between Uhtred and Sihtric ignited at last and exploded into a blazing quarrel in front of all their men _and_ the prisoners gathered in Saltwic's hall, Finan finally realized he might have missed a crucial detail. Before he could even think of something to say to calm them down, the spat about Skade's curse had already spiralled out of control and into death threats.  
  
“I will leave first light, but I will return,” Uhtred said loud enough for everyone to hear. “And if you are here still, then I will kill you.”  
  
The words seemed to echo in the sudden silence as no one dared move or speak, lest the lord's ire spread to them. Uhtred held Sihtric's gaze for another long moment to make sure his point had been received, then he abruptly turned and stalked out of the hall. As soon as the door closed behind him, hushed whispering broke out among the men and the prisoners, and it pulled Finan from the state of shock he'd been caught in.  
  
He rounded on Sihtric, grasping his elbow tightly. “Why the hell would you do that?”  
  
He shook him sharply for good measure, but Sihtric only lifted his chin in defiance and kept silent. The still burning rage in his eyes, however, spoke volumes. Nothing to gain here, Finan thought. “You don't move,” he tossed over his shoulder as he took off after Uhtred. “We are going to have a talk, you and I.”  
  
He found his lord tending to his horse, grooming it with a tuft of straw in long, tense strokes. Uhtred heard him coming, but didn't acknowledge his presence. Finan had never seen him act this vengeful and unrelenting towards his most loyal brothers, and he had forgotten how easily the inner circle might break apart over a simple disagreement. They had been working alongside for so long that it had seemed impossible for any of them to depart from the path Uhtred had chosen for them – least of all Sihtric who had nowhere else to go and the most to lose.  
  
Judging by Uhtred's grim face, he was thinking the same thing. “Lord,” Finan started, then cleared his throat in an attempt to buy himself some time and come up with something useful to say. “Lord, he's drunk.”  
  
Uhtred's scowl darkened even further as he bared his teeth in a sneer. “He's not a boy anymore. He will face the consequences of his actions!”  
  
That brought Finan up short. “Actions, lord?” He did not consider words slurred in an ale-fuelled, misdirected burst of temper 'actions' that required consequences such as death threats. A serious talk, yes. Assignments like first watch to make amends for the lack of respect, certainly. But vowing to kill him? That was overreacting.  
  
Uhtred blinked, briefly torn out of his rage, but then the frown settled on his face again. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously low, the words edged like a spear. “Would you not consider his blatant insolence a betrayal of me?”  
  
There was no need for this, Finan thought, irritated. No need to question his loyalty, now of all times. Except, maybe there was. Uhtred knew of their bond, had probably known before it had even been forged, and before now, he had been given no reason not to support it. But Sihtric's careless words had changed that. And if Finan didn't tread carefully now, the taint of his betrayal would spread to him. Uhtred was watching him closely, his eyes filled with wounded pride and self-righteous anger, but despite his own shock, Finan couldn't make himself pass judgement on Sihtric quite so easily.  
  
He shrugged, trying for nonchalance and failing. “He will be calm by morning,” he finally went with, even though he himself could hear how weak that sounded.  
  
Uhtred shook his head sharply. “What's done is done,” he said, and Finan's blood went cold. “He better be gone when I return. Make sure of that.”  
  
Finan wanted to scoff, to mock Uhtred with a sarcastic 'Of course, lord. Simple as that.' Instead, he watched numbly as his lord tossed the straw unto the floor and stormed off into the night. With one of the quarrelling parties being unreasonable, he went back to the hall to try his luck with the other. But Sihtric was already gone and he would not be found anywhere he went looking for him. When the prisoners too were missing in the morning, it was not difficult to imagine where he had gone.  
  
  
\<|>/  
  
  
“You look like you need some company.”  
  
Finan blinked rapidly to clear the ale-induced haze from his eyes and peered owlishly at his brother in arms. Osferth offered him a cup of water, but instead of drinking it, Finan took it and poured it over his head. He sputtered and shook himself like a wet dog when the ice-cold water dripped down his neck, but it helped. A little. Osferth stood now still instead of wobbling from left to right, and the sky finally stopped its constant shifting and settled into a steady horizon. When he wiped the remaining water from his eyes, he found Osferth smiling sadly at him.  
  
“No,” Finan said roughly. “I do not.”  
  
Osferth sighed and eased down next to him on the crumbling stonewall serving as the outer border of Æthelflaed's estate. “I don't understand it, either. Why he left.”  
  
There was no need to clarify who he meant. Neither Finan nor Osferth nor any of the men had uttered his name since he'd turned his back on them, but – at least to Finan – the hurt was ever-present all the same. Hence the overindulgence of ale. Finan's recollection of the days since his departure was blissfully vague and most likely incomplete. With no prisoners to attend to and nothing to do but wait for Uhtred to return, the prospect of pondering questions like 'why' and 'how could he' all day had not appealed to him. The prospect of a week-long inebriation definitely had. Even if his body had started to protest the abuse after the third day with splitting headaches and crippling nausea – which was still better than the alternative.  
  
“Did he say anything to you?”  
  
Finan grunted non-committally and shrugged. The opportunity to talk hadn't presented itself as readily in the past few weeks. The all too short moments they had been able to share just between the two of them had been few and far between. And maybe that was part of the problem, too. Being with Finan meant slinking about in the shadows, in deserted hallways and behind locked doors. Being with Finan meant sticking to Saxon territory, Saxon allies and Saxon oaths. And maybe that just wasn't enough for a born Dane.  
  
“No. He didn't really get the chance, though, did he?”  
  
Osferth acknowledged his words with a hum, but after a few seconds of brooding, he shook his head. “I don't think that's what made him so angry. At least he could be with you. Some of the men have wives in Wessex they haven't seen in months.”  
  
Finan hesitated, kicking at a stray chunk of rock that had fallen off the wall. “Maybe that's the problem. Being with me.”  
  
It took a moment for Osferth to understand what he was implying. “You mean he wanted to break your bond? That this is why he left? No, I don't think that's true.” Finan gave him an incredulous look, but Osferth didn't let up. Grasping his elbow, he leaned forward, a determined expression on his face. “Listen, I've gone through this moment so many times. I was watching him when you went after Uhtred. I'm telling you, he already knew what he was going to do. He knew you wouldn't go with him, and it _killed_ him to leave you behind.”  
  
Roughly clearing his suddenly tight throat, Finan shook him off and stood, intent on ending this dreadful conversation. A surge of dizziness hit him and he wobbled slightly. The embarrassing display of weakness chipped away at what little remained of his pride and he glowered at the frozen ground. “Didn't kill him enough to stay, now did it?”  
  
Osferth struggled to his feet, reaching for him again, but he stopped mid-motion, wide eyes trained on the edge of the forest. Finan turned, hand already reaching for his sword, but he needn't have worried. The single rider approaching them was familiar, and welcome indeed. “Uhtred,” he shouted with a wave.  
  
“He loved you enough not to ask you to choose,” Osferth said quietly behind him so only he would hear. “You can't ignore that truth.”  
  
Finan sighed. “I can try,” he muttered, then went to greet his lord.  
  
  
\<|>/  
  
  
In the end, the truth was that it had all been a ruse in order to spy on the Danes. A ruse that neither of the two culprits had deemed necessary to inform him about.  
  
To say Finan was furious at the revelation would be a lie. Instead of losing his famous temper, he felt strangely empty as he watched Uhtred and Sihtric congratulate each other on their successful sham. Paralysed by his disbelief as he was, the actual words they exchanged flew right past him. All he could focus on was the sight of Sihtric falling back into his role of Uhtred's oathman as though he'd never left. As though nothing had changed.  
  
For Finan, however, a lot had changed in the few weeks Sihtric had been gone. For one, he had been convinced he would have to face his former brother and lover on the wrong side of the battlefield and actually go for a killing blow. Until now, Finan had thought it to be the most difficult decision he would ever have to make. But looking at him now, he realized that going from earned love to forced hate and back again seemed like yet a greater task.  
  
The longer he stayed silent, the more uneasy Sihtric seemed to become. He continued to recount his findings in the Danish camp to Uhtred and Osferth, but his gaze grew increasingly concerned as it kept flitting back to Finan. What he was watching for was anyone's guess. If he had been expecting to be welcomed back with open arms, he would be very disappointed indeed.  
  
“Uhtred, we need to leave before anyone sees us,” Finan abruptly said. “Come, Osferth.”  
  
The icy tone of his voice brooked no argument, and Osferth didn't protest when he hooked a hand into the crook of his elbow to pull him up from his crouch and down the path they'd come. Finan didn't look back to see if his lord followed, but Uhtred didn't call him back. So he kept walking, keeping an eye out to the surrounding trees and dragging Osferth with him.  
  
Who suddenly tried to pull away from his sure grip. “You're hurting me,” he murmured.  
  
Finan quickly let go. “Sorry,” he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “This changes things.”  
  
Osferth hummed thoughtfully, then threw a quick look back over his shoulder to make sure their brothers were still out of earshot behind them. “I told you he didn't want to break your bond. Shouldn't you be pleased he didn't actually decide to change sides?”  
  
Finan gritted his teeth. Now that the true circumstances of Sihtric's departure finally started to register, the anger was coming in fast. “It's not about that. It's about trusting me enough not to lie to me – which, it seems, neither of those two bastards did.”  
  
“Finan-”  
  
“No,” he snapped, fed up with Osferth's attempt at making light of the unexpected turn. It didn't take into account the damage that had already been done. “Jesus Christ, leave it be!”  
  
Something in his voice must have promised unpleasant consequences if Osferth kept nagging him, for the baby monk raised his hands in surrender. His face was sad and defeated, and Finan almost relented. But then Uhtred's voice could be heard giving orders to the others behind them, and the rage at having been played by the people he held most dear reignited. He turned away from Osferth, walking past Uhtred without a word, and busied himself with the preparation for the attack to come. As they hid deep in the forest, waiting for dusk to fall, he made sure to always have at least one of his brothers in arms by his side as they passed the time with stories and sharpening swords, knives and axes.  
  
Uhtred kept glancing at him from his spot on the other side of their loose circle. No doubt he knew what Finan was doing, and he didn't seem too happy about it. But he neither commented on the silent treatment nor forced him into a private conversation with an order, and Finan was grateful for that small mercy. Despite Uhtred's offending lack of confidence in his second-in-command, coming to blows with his lord didn't seem like a wise decision, now that they were so close to finally breaking the curse.  
  
When they descended on the Danish camp and overwhelmed the few guards the arrogant bastards had left at the docks to guard their ships, he covered the hurt with a battle cry and blood on his blade and sharp orders that saw them gliding safely down the river and out of arrow-range. The angry shouts of Haesten soon faded beneath the rhythmic sound of the oars pulling through the water, and Finan allowed himself a short moment of relief.  
  
Regardless of the way it had been accomplished, the witch was at their mercy now and the curse would soon be lifted.  
  
  
\<|>/  
  
  
Only, that wasn't what happened. Despite the havoc she had wreaked on them, the witch was still alive. Finan had a lot to say about that, none of it good, but right now, rest was the first thing on his mind – despite the fact he didn't know yet where he could go. The hall was an inviting option, but the witch resided there, and a shouting match about this with his lord did not count as rest. So far, he had managed to stay out of Uhtred's grasp and therefore out of the confrontation that would surely follow. Not that it had been difficult. His lord only had eyes and ears for the vile creature and her forked tongue and didn't seem in a hurry to put their original plan into effect.  
  
“Finan.”  
  
Speak of the devil. Finan suppressed the annoyed groan trying to escape and focused on relieving Ida of the saddle. The mare showed her gratitude with a gentle tap of her muzzle, and he returned the loving gesture with a pat to her neck. Uhtred was not pleased by the lack of acknowledgement. His voice was sharper when he repeated his name.  
  
Reluctantly, he turned. Uhtred raised an eyebrow at the belligerent expression on his face, but didn't waste any words on it. “Since no other lord took over Coccham yet, Edwin tells me your house has not been used in our absence. You can rest there, and I will send Sihtric with you.”  
  
Finan's displeasure at the news must have shown, because Uhtred immediately raised a hand to stop him from complaining. Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a group of priests passing by as Bishop Erkenwald ordered his party to move out. They were walking much too slowly to make their pretence of not eavesdropping believable, and Uhtred gave them a dark look. But the opportunity to speak freely was past, and in the end, he simply settled on, “Don't judge him too harshly. He was following my orders.”  
  
Fine, Finan thought darkly, let's have it then. “So keeping me in the dark, that was your order? Having me think the worst, that was your order?” Uhtred's silence said it all. He seemed uncomfortable, almost as if he suddenly regretted interfering, and Finan waved him aside with a scoff. “I'll take that as a no then.”  
  
“Finan-”  
  
Ignoring him, Finan set the saddle down on the railing surrounding the paddock, then ruffled Ida's mane one last time and shooed her off in the direction of the pile of hay waiting in the corner. She snorted happily and went on her way, almost running over Uhtred who had to take a quick step back to avoid a collision. At least he had one loyal friend left. “I'll be getting out of your hair then,” Finan said pointedly as he ducked under the railing and out of the paddock. “Maybe the witch can comb it for you.”  
  
He almost expected Uhtred to call him back and demand an apology for the insult, but his lord remained silent as he watched him go. Good thing that was, because Finan was so tired he could barely walk in a straight line as he weaved down well-known paths between houses, barns and the odd animal pen.  
  
A lot of happy memories were attached to Coccham, where they had enjoyed a rare time of peace and plenty before everything went downhill. He and Sihtric had shared a house here, and while their unusual living arrangements certainly provoked a raised eyebrow or two, no one had ever dared voice their qualms out loud. Finan suspected the reason for the rare restraint the pious villagers had showed in that regard was their respective descent. A Dane and an Irishman living together instead of settling separately with wives was strange, but they would forever remain strangers to the Saxons either way – so why bother complaining?  
  
The swords the two of them always carried certainly helped, too.  
  
He smiled to himself at the thought, but it vanished as soon as he finally reached their old house and found Sihtric already sitting on the few steps leading up to the open front door, waiting for him. The sight was achingly familiar, and Finan had to remind himself that he was still spitting mad. Happy memories or not, the present was far removed from that past.  
  
Sihtric's expression was guarded and cautious as he watched him approach. “The house is untouched,” he reported, his voice carefully calm and matter-of-fact. “It's like we've never been away.”  
  
“Well,” Finan said against better judgement, “you've definitely gotten around.”  
  
He pushed past Sihtric on the steps and swept into the house, which – sure enough – looked just the same. The table was still cluttered with a carving knife, a half-finished sword handle and shavings covering one side of it and a stack of leather arm guards occupying the other. A sudden memory of the day they left took him aback, the discussion of which arm guard suited him better, Sihtric laughing about his indecision as he flicked wooden splinters at him. A hand touching his arm startled him back into the present and he quickly stepped out of reach.  
  
“Don't.”  
  
A sigh answered him. “I couldn't tell you.”  
  
Straight to the point then. It seemed like Sihtric finally had enough of the silent treatment. He looked tired and weary and just as hurt as Finan felt. And that really wasn't fair. “You should have.”  
  
“It had to be convincing.”  
  
“The argument, yes, I understand that. But you left me in the dark even after your little charade in the hall ended.”  
  
“I couldn't risk tipping off a spy they might have at Saltwic.”  
  
Finan scoffed and shook his head, and the weariness on Sihtric's face tipped over into anger. “They would've killed me,” he suddenly shouted. “If there had been any doubt about my loyalty, they would have put me down like a rabid dog. I _couldn't_ tell you. I wanted to, but we couldn't risk it.” His voice dropped into a whisper then. “You have to believe me.”  
  
Finan felt his resolve crumble as his overactive imagination conjured a picture of Sihtric lying in a pool of his own blood, a dagger in his throat and no sword in hand, and he had to look away to clear his thoughts. The clinking of armour told him Sihtric was moving closer again. “You said you would always find me,” he said quietly. “I'm right here.”  
  
Finan exhaled on a cold laugh. “I was wondering then whether I'd find you on a battlefield. Whether I would be able to kill you if I had to.” He saw Sihtric flinch, his face turning pale. “I'm wondering now if you even thought of that.”  
  
Sihtric couldn't hold his gaze as he shifted his weight, uncomfortable. “I didn't,” he admitted. “I thought Uhtred had let you in on our plan after I was gone. Osferth, too.”  
  
Passing the blame. Great. “I'm not as good as married to Uhtred, but _to you_! It was _your_ responsibility to warn me in advance. Jesus, I thought this was over!”  
  
Sihtric took his accusations without any protest, all the fight leaving him. “Is it?”  
  
Finan raked a hand through his hair, stuck between the remains of his rage and the unwanted cusp of forgiveness blossoming as he took in his crestfallen expression. “Bloody hell, Sihtric, I don't know! If you can't trust me with this, what else is there?”  
  
Sihtric dropped his gaze, looking absolutely _shattered_. And yet Finan just couldn't bring himself to console him, to say anything that might suggest they were going to continue as they had been. The fatigue returned, worse than before, and he swayed in place, suddenly too exhausted to deal with this fundamental decision. “God, I need sleep,” he murmured and turned towards the steep stairs that led to the small attic where their bed used to be. “Stay if you like.”  
  
His tone of voice made it clear he expected Sihtric not to follow him to the shed upstairs, and his brother in arms remained silent and unmoving as he watched him ascend the steps. Finan tightly shut the door at the top and took a deep breath to steady himself. Illuminated only by cracks between the roof laths, the room appeared empty and uninviting without Sihtric's presence, but at least the thin layer of dust was tolerable. The bed looked like it had been made only a short while before. No doubt he had Edwin's wife to thank for that.  
  
Not that he would've cared about the state of the bed either way. He toed off his boots, dumped his armour, tunic and trousers on the coffer and propped his sword up against the headboard. Even before his head touched the pillow, he was already asleep.  
  
  
\<|>/  
  
  
But not for long. Or maybe for long and it just didn't feel like it. Without any windows to judge the time, Finan had no idea how long he had been sleeping like the dead when he finally came to. Eyes crusted and throat dry as parchment, he almost felt drunk as he fought to sit up on the edge of the bed. He had obviously needed the rest, that much was clear. And yet he didn't feel refreshed at all. With a groan, he cradled his head in his hands and willed the pounding to stop. Which it did, thankfully, after a couple of tries.  
  
But with the clarity also came the recollection of the conversation he and Sihtric had fought their way through before he'd gone to bed. Their bed. Alone. A flash of guilt flew through him, accompanied by a bout of uncontrollable longing. He wondered whether Sihtric had stayed downstairs, still hoping for forgiveness, and he was surprised to find he wished he had.  
  
Despite the unfortunate manner in which he had carried out his part of the secret plan, Uhtred was indeed to blame just the same, if not more. There had been ample time for his lord to confide in his second-in-command as he usually did, and yet he had decided not to. It remained a curious choice, especially considering the stakes attached to it, and one Finan wasn't prepared to let go without a serious conversation. And maybe a hard thump to the head with the handle of his sword. But he knew, even now, he would eventually forgive his lord.  
  
So why not forgive Sihtric? Who, at least, seemed to understand how wrong his decision had been to keep the truth from him. Who probably had only thought of making it easier for him to bear his death after a staged betrayal, should the Danes decide to kill him after all. Finan shook his head to get rid of that unpleasant line of thought. The Danes had _not_ seen through Sihtric's charade. He was still alive, still breathing, still waiting. Decision made, Finan got up.  
  
He found Sihtric sitting at the table, with only a candle and a cup of ale for company and his armour and weapons discarded on the bench next to him. Clad in a soft grey tunic instead of his usual black war attire, he seemed a lot younger and smaller, and Finan's chest ached. Without an ale-induced fog clouding his mind, it hit him hard how much he had truly missed him from the minute he'd been gone, how much he had been wanting for his voice, his laugh, the fleeting touches and meaningful looks they shared in plain sight of their brothers.  
  
Sihtric looked up when he heard his footsteps, his face drawn and sad. For a moment, they took each other in, waiting for the first move, and then Sihtric exhaled a shuddering breath. “I'm sorry,” he said simply.  
  
And Finan believed him. “I know.”  
  
A great weight seemed to be lifted from Sihtric's shoulders as he sat up straight, opening his arms as an invitation that Finan gladly accepted. He stepped into his embrace, arms winding around his shoulders while Sihtric linked his hands behind his knees, pulling him further in. He pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to his bare stomach, his breath warming up his cool skin. Finan couldn't suppress a shudder as goosebumps raced up his arms, and he noticed how cold it was down here.  
  
“Come to bed.”  
  
Sihtric's eyes, dark and hungry, flicked up to meet his, and Finan only realized then how his words could be taken as a demand for something more than sleep. Not that he was of a mind to object, especially not when Sihtric resumed kissing his stomach, making his way down to the seam of his breeches. His hands tightened behind his knees before he slowly skimmed up the back of his thighs, fingertips bunching up the fabric against the sensitive skin. Finan groaned impatiently, but Sihtric only laughed in response. The sound distracted him for a moment, so he wasn't prepared when Sihtric finally ducked his head and mouthed at his cock through his breeches.  
  
“Jesus Christ,” Finan exclaimed. “Off to bed, you minx.”  
  
Sihtric was still grinning when Finan grabbed the candle with one hand and yanked him to his feet and up the stairs with the other, and he finally had enough of being teased. Stumbling across the threshold, he put the candle down on the chest by the door and started pulling off Sihtric's clothes, remembering to pay special attention to the spots that instantly drove his lover mad. He was rewarded with little gasps and moans as he raked his fingernails over his ribs when he pushed the tunic over his head, as he rubbed his thumbs over the soft hollow next to his hipbone when he pushed his breeches down his thighs, as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his temple when he pulled his bared body flush against his.  
  
Flying high on his victory, he was brought up short by Sihtric suddenly pushing against him, catching his mouth in a deep and messy kiss. He stumbled back a step, his knees hitting the edge of the bed, and sat down heavily, breathing hard. His disappointment was short-lived, however, for conceiting defeat didn't seem so bad when his inferior position provided him with the sight of his naked lover standing over him. With the rush of lust currently broken, he took the time to appreciate all he had thought lost to him – the pale skin, the tight muscles and numerous scars that told of many battles, the jet-black hair with silver beads glinting in the candlelight, the teasing grin no one else ever got to see. All _his_.  
  
“You are beautiful,” he said, voice low and full of wonder.  
  
Sihtric's grin softened into a quiet smile, and he bent over to give him a kiss unlike any they had already shared tonight. It was solid and lasting, and Finan was left reeling as Sihtric pulled back way to soon for his taste. But then his hands grasped the hem of Finan's breeches and pulled them down his thighs as he knelt before him. Finan forgot to breathe as Sihtric forwent all teasing and immediately took his cock into his mouth. He wanted to say something, ease the mounting pressure of emotions overwhelming him, but he could only gasp for air as Sihtric used his tongue and teeth to drive him to the edge, regardless of his own pleasure.  
  
The thought brought with it a flash of guilt, so he wove his fingers through Sihtric's short locks to slow him down. “Wait,” he muttered. “Wait, or I'm gonna-”  
  
The rest was lost in a loud and startled moan as Sihtric ignored him and swallowed him down, effectively putting an end to his sentence. The incredibly tight heat of his throat caught Finan off guard and he came with a curse on his lips. Remaining upright suddenly seemed like too much of a hassle, and he toppled over onto his back, eyes shut tight and arms sprawling. He barely registered Sihtric crawling over him onto the bed.  
  
“You were gonna what?”  
  
Finan didn't have to look at him, he could hear the self-satisfied grin in his voice. He rolled over in a huff, pretending to get ready for sleep. “I was gonna include you, but you didn't want to. So there you go. Good night.”  
  
Sihtric only laughed and moved closer to him, pulling him back into his chest. Finan fought hard not to react as his soft lips caressed the shell of his ear and his hard cock pressed against the back of his thigh. “It's a shame you're already tired. I had more planned for you.”  
  
As he spoke, he dragged his fingertips down his spine, briefly stopping at the base before dipping lower. Finan automatically leaned into the touch, nestling into his embrace like a cat stretching after a mid-day nap. There was little doubt what Sihtric meant, but they had a game to play. “And what, pray tell, might that be?”  
  
Sihtric didn't miss a beat. “I wanted you to ride me.”  
  
Well, Finan had to admit, that was indeed a surprise. The all too few times they were even able to get this far had been few and far between. Often enough, they neither had the time nor a safe space where the risk of discovery was low. And whenever they managed to get to this point, they both preferred to be as close as possible, regardless of who was on top. The significance of Sihtric suggesting such a change now wasn't lost on Finan. Handing over complete control and submitting a position of power to him could be Sihtric's way of asking his forgiveness. And who was he to deny him when he himself had been in dire need of a second chance at the very beginning?  
  
They would have to talk about the whole ordeal – eventually. Now was not the time to talk.  
  
Decision made, Finan reached for the jar of oil that still sat on a rack above the headboard and turned over, careful not to break from Sihtric's embrace. “That, lovey, I could get on board with.”  
  
Sihtric's nose wrinkled in distaste at the term of endearment, but he still had to laugh despite himself. In return, his own voice was dripping with false sweetness. “Your wish is my command.”  
  
Watching Sihtric unstop the jar and coat his fingers in the unscented oil slightly curbed Finan's enthusiasm. He had never possessed enough patience for the preparation that was required to get to the good part. It took precious minutes away from their shared time, and they only had so much of that. Sihtric had no more patience for it than he did, but he never rushed into it unbidden, always waiting for Finan's explicit consent. This time, he got it in the form of a nod, and he returned it before carefully entering a finger past the tight ring of muscle.  
  
It wasn't painful at all, but Finan had to put effort into relaxing into it nonetheless. They couldn't do this as often as they would like, and it certainly showed. They weren't used to it to a point where the preparation could be used as a welcome part of the pleasure instead of a necessary evil. Even now, Finan suspected they were both half-listening for any sound from below that meant someone else was moving about the house – he counted precious few people who wouldn't scream bloody murder when they caught them unawares. Chasing fleeting pleasure wasn't worth putting their lives on the line.  
  
Lost in his thoughts, Finan's breath got stuck in his throat when his lover pulled him closer and entered a second finger at the same time. Sihtric could feel him freezing up and immediately moved to retreat, but Finan grasped at his wrist to stop him. “No, keep going.”  
  
Sihtric obeyed, but he seemed more cautious than before, so Finan tightened his hold to keep him where he wanted him. “I'm not going to break,” he said roughly. “Don't hold back.”  
  
Sihtric's own breathing stuttered as he watched Finan guide his fingers deeper, but he recovered quickly. Adding a third finger, he drew a loud moan from Finan who let go in favour of bracing against the bed so he could push back against the pressure building at the base of his spine. It was tempting to keep going like this and come on Sihtric's fingers alone, but it wasn't what they both wanted. It just wasn't enough.  
  
“Now,” Finan panted. “I need you now.”  
  
“Come here.”  
  
Sihtric sounded just as overwhelmed as Finan felt, and when he climbed on top, his lover looked like it too, with his eyes wide and his breathing heavy. Finan couldn't look away from his lips, and on impulse he bent down to catch them in a fierce kiss that left them both panting and grasping at each other. Sihtric's hands slid up his thighs and gripped his hips, pulling him down hard into his body. They both frantically chased the friction, but still no touch seemed to be enough.  
  
Finan abruptly sat up on his knees and reached back to steady Sihtric's cock as he took him in. Sihtric stilled completely beneath him, his eyes shut tight, and his grip on his hips was almost too strong. Not that Finan was faring any better. For a short and terrible moment, he thought the pain would be too much as the air was squeezed from his lungs and his knees trembled from the effort of going as slow as possible. But then he finally came to rest on top of Sihtric's thighs, and he leaned forward to regain his bearings.  
  
Sihtric raised a hand from his hip to his jaw, cupping his cheek. His gaze was still dark with want, but also filled with concern. Finan immediately understood the silent question and quickly nodded. “I'm fine,” he muttered. “Just need a break. I'm not the young stallion I used to be.”  
  
Sihtric rolled his eyes as he laughed breathlessly. “I can't imagine you ever were-”  
  
Cutting his sassy lover off with a sudden forward thrust was quite effective, Finan noted. It also worked on the second and third try. Sihtric was too busy catching up to the pace he was setting to think about finishing his jibe. Yet when he finally latched onto the rhythm, he immediately got back at him. Hands gripping Finan's hips tightly, he changed the angle by pulling him forward, and his next thrust went much deeper than before.  
  
“Bastard,” Finan groaned as he arched his back.  
  
A half-choked chuckle answered him before Sihtric took him by the arms and pulled him down to try and make amends with a kiss. But when Finan bent forward to meet him, the pressure increased almost to the point where he couldn't stand it. He stopped mid-motion, fingers digging into Sihtric's shoulders. “Wait,” he blurted out. “Let's switch.”  
  
For a second or two, Sihtric looked ready to argue, but then the confused expression made way for understanding. He nodded and turned them both over, careful not to hurt him in his attempt to keep them connected. Sihtric cradled his head, leaning on his elbows to keep most of his weight off him, and Finan wound his arms around his waist, unwilling to lose the contact.  
  
The mood had shifted now, and they both took a moment to settle down, content to just be close. The brief fight for dominance, born from pride and hurt feelings on either side, was forgotten, replaced by mutual agreement to lay the quarrel to rest. Then again, wasn't that what warriors like them did best, holding grudges and nursing the flame of their anger so it could instantly ignite in battle? No wonder most men kept their wives far away in war, Finan mused with a slight grin. That was much easier to handle.  
  
Sihtric saw him smirk. “Better?”  
  
“Aye.” Much more comfortable, Finan hitched his knees higher around Sihtric's hips and once again started rocking against him. The strain was manageable now, and a warm feeling of pleasure gathered low in his stomach, spreading through his body and removing the tension from his limbs. “Much better.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Sihtric readily adjusted to his much more subdued pace, nuzzling his jaw and pressing light kisses to his throat. And at last, they were truly moving together instead of against one another. They stayed close and within easy reach of kisses and caresses, and Finan thought that, like this, he could fall in love all over again without the slightest effort. Despite all the negotiations and compromises and misunderstandings that made their bond a constant piece of work.  
  
Linking his hands behind Sihtric's neck, he pulled him forward until their foreheads touched. His lover hid his smile against his cheek and exchanged the short, shallow thrusts for long, deep strokes that made Finan see stars. He threw his head back, his mouth involuntarily falling open to release a series of choked moans that seemed to spur Sihtric on. He picked up the pace and slid a hand between them to grip Finan's cock tightly.  
  
As it turned out, it didn't take much more for him to come. A sharp twist, a particularly deep thrust, and he came with a surprised groan. Sihtric kept up his rhythm for a few seconds longer, then he followed. Finan sighed as he felt warmth spread within his body and he held tightly onto his lover to share it while they recovered their breath and willed their racing heartbeats to calm down.  
  
Much too soon for his liking, Sihtric picked himself up onto his elbows, and Finan was overcome by a sudden flash of irrational fear. He grasped his face between his hands, trapping him in place. “Don't ever do that again,” he said gruffly. “I want you with me. No games, no secrets. If you don't think you can stick to that-”  
  
Sihtric didn't let him finish. Straining against his hold, he silenced him with a rough kiss. His voice was strong and unwavering as he repeated, “No games, no secrets. I swear.”  
  
“You better.” Finan kept his gaze for a long moment, making sure to drive his point home. “Or I won't-”  
  
A series of loud knocks on the front door cut him off, and they looked at each other, startled. When no explanation came, Sihtric quickly sat up, reaching for Finan's sword. “Were you expecting-”  
  
The knocks came again, louder this time, the rhythm more frantic than before. Finan threw on his breeches and took the sword Sihtric offered him. “Certainly not.” A voice joined the ruckus now, calling his name, and all the tension dropped from his limbs, replaced by annoyance. “Osferth. I'll go, see what he wants.”  
  
It couldn't be good. Osferth was not known for banging on other people's doors in the middle of the night unless it was _very_ important. Which meant Uhtred had sent him. But with what message? Finan didn't dare give himself an answer. Right now, he didn't deign to predict his lord's intentions, not with Skade still wielding her terrible power over him. For all he knew, Osferth's message might contain a declaration of anything from war on Wessex all the way to retirement from all armed conflicts. Neither appeared to be a promising prospect.  
  
Whatever it was, it seemed to be momentous. By the flickering light of the torch Osferth was carrying, Finan could tell that his brother in arms was in a right state, to say the least. Thin hair askew, eyes bright, a rare full-on grin on his face, he looked like he had stumbled across Jesus Christ himself. He barely waited for Finan to pull the door fully open before he blurted out his piece of news. “She's dead,” he gasped. “Finan, the curse is gone!”  
  
Missing a few beats, Finan felt his mouth drop open in shock. Then the message truly sank in. “I'll be damned,” he exclaimed. Osferth's face fell into a scowl at the blasphemy, as always, but he ignored it, as always. “He killed her?”  
  
Brought back to the reason of his visit, Osferth smiled again. “The hold of the witch was strong, but he did it. I saw it with my own eyes.” The smile grew wider. “He's resting now. _Finally_.”  
  
Finan closed his eyes as he exhaled heavily. Gone. The curse was gone. They were free once more. “Thank God.”  
  
“We're leaving for Winchester tomorrow, so we should all get a good night's-” Eyes flickering to a point just above Finan's right shoulder, Osferth abruptly cut himself off. A deep blush stained his cheeks as he dropped his gaze to the floor. “Oh.”  
  
Intrigued, Finan turned to see what had him stammering and clearing his throat in embarrassment and found Sihtric sitting on the stairs, wearing a toothy grin – and nothing else. Surprised, Finan barked out a laugh, even as he shook his head at his lover's gall. _Danes_ , he thought fondly. “You were saying?”  
  
Osferth tried to give him a stern look, but failed miserably. The accompanying smile was not hidden well enough. “I see the two of you-” He paused for effect, eyebrows climbing towards his hairline. “-finally got to _talk_?”  
  
“Well, there wasn't much talking involved, baby monk.” Finan reached out to wind an arm around his shoulders, even though he tried – in vain – to shake him off. “I'll tell you about that when you're older.”  
  
Osferth stopped struggling long enough to prod him between the ribs with a pointy elbow. “Please don't.” Then he surprised Finan by returning his half-embrace, wrapping a thin arm around his waist. His voice was barely a whisper so Sihtric wouldn't hear. “You did talk, though? Everything alright now?”  
  
Another joke lay ready on the tip of his tongue, but Osferth sounded so concerned, almost anxious, that Finan paused instead and actually thought about what to tell him. Looking over, he saw Sihtric watching him, and judging by his serious and expectant expression, he had caught Osferth's words and was just as interested in his reply. He sighed and affectionately ruffled the little brother's hair. “You should know by now that talking isn't the strong suit of bumbling warriors,” he said, but made sure to soften the reproof with a fond tone. “But yes, everything's right as rain.”  
  
Osferth briefly squeezed his side, then let go. “I'm glad.”  
  
Finan laughed at the immense relief in his voice. “Good. And now off to bed with you.”  
  
“Or find someone to _talk_ to,” Sihtric called.  
  
Osferth sputtered something unintelligible as he hurried down the stairs and off into the night, and Finan watched him go, caught between glee and sympathy. The poor boy. Then again, he willingly put up with their childish jokes and bickering every day, so it couldn't be that bad. “You scared him off,” he told Sihtric in mock-disappointment as he closed the door and walked back to the stairs.  
  
His lover was not impressed in the least. “He can take it,” he said easily.  
  
But Finan didn't miss the obvious affection that lay beneath. It seemed like their odd pair of friends was back on track as well. Good. One thing less to worry about. “Back to bed now.”  
  
Sihtric didn't move from his perch, but reached out to grab his hand instead and pull him onto his lap. “Wait, let's celebrate for a moment.” With the steps being so narrow and so little light from the windows to navigate by, it took a few seconds for them to find their balance, but eventually, they settled into a comfortable embrace. “The curse is broken!”  
  
“And you made it happen.” Sihtric went very still beneath him, the excitement he'd been radiating a moment before gone, and Finan suddenly understood how his words could be taken as another dig at his ill-advised decision. “I didn't mean-”  
  
“No, you did.”  
  
With a sigh, Finan ran his hands up and down Sihtric's sides. Maybe he had. A little. “It was dangerous and brave, what you did. I never doubted that. But you should've told me. If they'd killed you, I would've found a way to Valhalla without dying just to yell at you.”  
  
He felt Sihtric squirm beneath him. “You can't really-”  
  
“Reach Valhalla without dying. Yes, yes, I know.” Wrapping his arms around his back, Finan pulled him tight against him. Sihtric automatically responded in kind, his warm breath whispering across his neck and making him shiver. “That's not the point, though.”  
  
Sihtric was quiet for a moment, fingertips picking absently at the fraying fabric of Finan's breeches. It was the only indication of how anxious he truly was about the outcome of this particular conversation. “If there's anything you'd like to say, I'll listen.”  
  
At last, there was the opening he had been looking for. And yet Finan found himself at a loss for words. A brief roll in the hay certainly didn't erase the hurt and the sense of having been deceived by the person he should be able to trust most. That would take time. But time was exactly what Finan thought worth spending if it meant their bond would remain steady – and maybe even grow stronger than before. The days they had spent apart had left their mark on both of them. Just like him, Sihtric hadn't been prepared for the repercussions of being separated for so long, longer than they'd ever been out of each other's sight. Finan could tell by how unusually clingy he was, how desperate to atone for his mistake.  
  
In the end, the words came easy. “I won't lie, I'm still mad neither of you felt the need to tell me about your crazy plan. But I'm just as honest when I'm telling you I want you by my side. As long as you're willing to be there.”  
  
Sihtric exhaled a shaky breath. “Always,” he said before pulling back to kiss him soundly. “Whatever happens.”  
  
“Right.” Finan grinned and felt the answering grin against his lips. “Whatever happens.”  
  
  
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Thank you very much for reading!


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